“You are killing me!  Take him away; take him away!”

Once in the cab the child suddenly became silent.  Either the jolting of the vehicle calmed him, or the creaking of the wheels filled him with emotion.  La Couteau, who kept him on her knees, at first remained silent, as if interested in the people on the footwalks, where the bright sun was shining.  Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk, venting her thoughts aloud.

“That little woman made a great mistake in not trusting the child to me.  I should have put him out to nurse properly, and he would have grown up finely at Rougemont.  But there! they all imagine that we simply worry them because we want to do business.  But I just ask you, if she had given me five francs for myself and paid my return journey, would that have ruined her?  A pretty girl like her oughtn’t to be hard up for money.  I know very well that in our calling there are some people who are hardly honest, who speculate and ask for commissions, and then put out nurslings at cheap rates and rob both the parents and the nurse.  It’s really not right to treat these dear little things as if they were goods—­poultry or vegetables.  When folks do that I can understand that their hearts get hardened, and that they pass the little ones on from hand to hand without any more care than if they were stock-in-trade.  But then, monsieur, I’m an honest woman; I’m authorized by the mayor of our village; I hold a certificate of morality, which I can show to anybody.  If ever you should come to Rougemont, just ask after Sophie Couteau there.  Folks will tell you that I’m a hard-working woman, and don’t owe a copper to a soul!”

Mathieu could not help looking at her to see how unblushingly she thus praised herself.  And her speech struck him as if it were a premeditated reply to all that Victoire had related of her, for, with the keen scent of a shrewd peasant woman, she must have guessed that charges had been brought against her.  When she felt that his piercing glance was diving to her very soul, she doubtless feared that she had not lied with sufficient assurance, and had somehow negligently betrayed herself; for she did not insist, but put on more gentleness of manner, and contented herself with praising Rougemont in a general way, saying what a perfect paradise it was, where the little ones were received, fed, cared for, and coddled as if they were all sons of princes.  Then, seeing that the gentleman uttered never a word, she became silent once more.  It was evidently useless to try to win him over.  And meantime the cab rolled and rolled along; streets followed streets, ever noisy and crowded; and they crossed the Seine and at last drew near to the Luxembourg.  It was only after passing the palace gardens that La Couteau again began: 

“Well, it’s that young person’s own affair if she imagines that her child will be better off for passing through the Foundling.  I don’t attack the Administration, but you know, monsieur, there’s a good deal to be said on the matter.  At Rougemont we have a number of nurslings that it sends us, and they don’t grow any better or die less frequently than the others.  Well, well, people are free to act as they fancy; but all the same I should like you to know, as I do, all that goes on in there.”